So much better than before (Ameita)
by Yunelyon
Summary: It's the great '60 in New York and, apparently, there's no better place or time to be in for Italy's and America's newly born relationship. Parties at night, excitement and a lot going on: the troubles of the war feel like swiftly passing by! Is it just getting over two bad romances gone wrong or is love actually blooming between the two? Based on actual history and events.


"uhm...mornin' baby..." were the first words America murmured in between a yawn and another, eyes still closed, as he held close the warm body he had slept embraced with all night, brushing with one hand the soft brown hair. The other responded by snuggling sweetly in his chest and subtly giggled "good morning Mr. hero...".

America tried to open his eyes several times but his sight was blurred and his head felt heavy. When he finally could keep them open he looked down at the man he was holding just to meet Italy's big, gorgeous, deep, amber eyes staring back fondly. With a smile on his lips: warm as his sun, sweet. Oh crap, that alone was enough to make your day! How could he pull such a face first thing in the morning? After the night they had spent? His face was shit, he couldn't see it, but he was sure it wasn't anywhere near as Italy's radiant one. He grinned "Well hello there..." Italy giggled again and started kissing him gently and slowly all over his face. "my, my, you still aren't satisfied?" "I never have enough when I'm with you...*giggle*...hum...America what time is it?"

That question felt almost like a pull back to reality, he passed a hand through his hair and face just to check his watch; only thing still on his body. "...well, it's...OH GOD IT'S ALREADY 11:07!" Oh no, how long had he slept? Great, just great, now he had to rush everything, start jumping like an idiot from one side to the other of the room and grab a taxi with something stuck in his mouth while tying his tie, cell phone blowing with people ready to complain and talk shit because he was late and...and...nah! He let himself fall back lazily on the bed. Seeing Italy's calm, still dreamy face and the remaining of his hangover beating slightly through his head were enough to make him think "it's not worth it...".

He'd be epicurean. Without letting stress ruin his previous wonderful night he'd get up smooth and calm, have a shower, dress up and have breakfast with his lover. Since he had been sleeping with Italy he had found out, why it was that the latin got always late at meetings and appointments. But it felt great to follow suit, to never let time get under your skin, to actually control it as you pleased. Since he and Italy had started dating he had fully discovered the joy of living day by day without time sets or schedules. He was America! And they were in New York, in these fucking glorious 60'. If his city didn't sleep, if there were parties and things going on everywhere, if new exciting music was playing wild in the bars and clubs, why had he, for so long, agreed on "planning" his nights out, on taking it slow and going always for "the classic *outdated* way to have fun" ?

Because he had been with England? Because they always ended up doing what the brit. wanted to do, which didn't really correspond to his wild and unruly type of fun? ...yeah probably. If Italy was the clock-less guy, England was the exact opposite. Almost as if the Big Ben ticked every single second in his brain! Italy was bright and in a permanent good mood? England was always apparently depressed, indulging in his exaggerate sates of mind, and grouchy and dark...LITTERALY. He was starting to wear black and at times he even darkened his eyes with makeup. It was starting to gain approval bit by bit in his country, if he remembered it correctly it was something they were defying as "being punk"**. And if he tried to discuss with him about his new outlooks on the world? No way! European style, England's style, always. Because in his mind, and America was sure, England kept seeing him as a colony to be bossed around.

But with Italy now everything felt bright and colored. Italy was the king of good taste, elegance and refinement (although maybe he had to share the crown with France) in everything: food, movies, music, art and fashion! Even if he wouldn't state it plain (he had a bagy cloth lover reputation to defend) he was going crazy over Italian fashion. Prada's bags, Bulgari's cufflinks and he could have sworn that if he were a female he wouldn't think twice to buy a red Valentino like his top actress Liz Taylor. And about Liz and movies, he and Italy were having just too much fun making great motion pictures together! *** From "Cleopatra" passing for "Quo Vadis?" to "Ben Hur" and all those glorious "spaghetti westerns", as they started calling them. What to say of his great songs, like "tu vuo'fa l'americano" ( later remixed several times, even by his rapper pitbull) or "Volare - Nel blu dipinto di blue"? Amazing! And some of Mina's hits were so much in sync with Liza Minelli's. He and Italy just seemed to have a good time no matter where they were or what they were doing. He closed his eyes for a second and smiled as he remembered the bright afternoon passed just a few weeks before in Positano. On the golden beaches they could stay and and talk for hours; and not only wouldn't Italy criticize his thoughts and wild ideas, he would smile admired and happily say "it sounds wonderful!". Indulging with his hand upon his, Italy had even gone as far as to be willing to actually help him realize his dream "Want to beat Russia in the race? America, I'll help you reach the Moon!"****. It was refreshing. For both of them. Italy was still hurt for how things had ended with Germany...after his dissertation in war and Germany's counter to it, the two had never actually made up, although they kept, for politics' sake, a level of civility. It's incredible how they had found each other at the right time. And now they were having the time of their life! Because seriously, he couldn't really think of a night as satisfying as the ones he had been living in these past weeks. Like the last...

he didn't miss a second of how Italy got up and started picking up his cloths, and give him back a sensual inviting stare as he entered the bathroom. SO HOT. He slipped out of bed. No way he'd let the chance slip.

Yesterday when they had heard each other on the phone, they had simply agreed on having dinner together. So there they were in the Plaza's dining Rose club having a bite with champagne; talking about their day. "Take me somewhere fun" Italy said, smiling fondly, out of the blue as they were halfway done eating. "Wha...now?" "Yes!" He gulped down the remaining of his wine and pulled out a very consistent sum of money and put it down on the table. Without even a moment of spare he pulled America up and dragged him out, leaving him confused for a split second but still excited, by this sort of runaway. "Keep the change" Italy mumbled as their waiter gave them a half surprised glance. Since the economic miracle Italy had started spending money wildly and he couldn't help but wonder for a while just how generous that waiter's tap would be. But no time for that: they had slipped into a taxi and were already on their way for Broadway.

The enchanting lights, the music, the fast pace. They strolled for the hole street just to get in at the last second at one of the musicals featuring. As they did so, they owned the street, faces turning and some girls staring. And why not? They looked good, Damn if they did, especially together! Hey, maybe the people thought they were a couple of playboy friends looking for a good time. As the show ended late at night? The fun had just began. The best part. They went into a bar, the first of the night, ordering something as 4 or 5 drinks. Vodka, Tequila, Cointreau, Champagne, Jack, juices and sodas, all in strange mixes; they simply drank down shamelessly. This time Italy had given in and indulged in America's love of food and drinks in absurd mixes. Not that Italy had much to complain actually..."hey, America. How are you feeling?" "Great, why?" He motioned with his eyes to look at the glasses, as he circled the edge with one finger, they had just ordered. The first round. "Oh, well...I don't know you but I think I need my pills for strong emotions. Think you can handle yours?" As he said so, He stealthily extracted from his cigarette case two rounded and colored pills. America understood immediately what the "strong emotions" Italy had talked of were all about. He gave him a knowing look "Not as innocent as we first look, are we?" "Oh, come on! I'm practically 2000 years old, and...it is innocent. After all, we just want to have a little fun, right?" America grinned as he accepted one of the two pills and threw it in his glass. "Right! What doesn't kill us..." "...makes us higher!" Finished Italy grinning happily holding his drink up. "Cheers, pall." *****

After that, everything became confused, colored and loud. America could hardly recollect alcohol flowing down his system, excitement burning hot as he and Italy danced close, rubbing against each other in a crowed and just as high dance floor of a huge party they had crashed. Balloons, glitters, and similar ending on them as well as some champagne, showered on everyone on the floor; disco ball lighting everything with colors. Maybe they also had a temporary partner switch with some girls they found there? Got out and in some loud Jazz bar? More drinks? He wasn't sure...but he knew it ruled. Dazzling. And in all that, as his consciousness came back and forth, one thing kept printed in his mind: Italy's gorgeous brown messy hair, as he danced, sweaty and with eager, lost eyes. And...his lips...perfect on his. But as dawn came, the chilly air had started to sober his mind. Good, because he wanted to remember every second of what came after!

As they entered America's building and pressed the top floor button on the elevator, Italy looked at him lustful. "...In ten seconds I'm jumping on you" he whispered as he delicately outstretched one of his fingers on America's cock and trailed delicately over it. America groaned at the touch "...9" and tried to lean on the hand for more. But Italy wouldn't dig in "...8...7", it was a tease, an aperitif that would last till the end of the countdown. "...6...5..." America gave a flash look at the floor they were now on, just a couple more for theirs, as Italy was now adding one finger at the time at the touch. "...4...3.." Their bodies were now close to each other, America almost over the Latin on one of the elevator's walls, as Italy kept his game, passing his hand now all over his upper tight. "...2..." America could swear that now he was the one who could hardly wait those two seconds. And as his hands were trying to keep to themselves his mind flew on the elevator's door and swung it open as soon as it hit the floor and brought the Italian's body along. Now it was the Italian's body the one over America's on the front door, as America fished wildly in his pocket not even daring to take away his eyes off the other's. "...1..." Italy's mouth few millimeters away from his, and America made the key click in the lock and pushed them both inside. Not even the time to close the door behind them and they started kissing wildly, America pushing Italy against the wall, fighting for predominance, making his arms roam all over him just like the other did. Hands and touches messing hair and cloths. But America's glasses were in the way so Italy quickly removed them and let them slip wherever on the parquet as they made their way to the bed room. America could swear that there was something in the undressing part that made it probably the best. Maybe because Italy's soft and slim figure felt and looked so right in the dim light? Maybe because while taking his clothes off, Italy's brow hair were exalted better than ever on the white skin? Or maybe because the way the Italian could slip America's pants and tie from him was the most sensual anyone had ever done and, probably, ever would to him?

In a wild rush of heat and desire America refused to wait any longer and lifted up the almost completely naked Italian body and dropped it on the bed kissing it fondly everywhere. Italy moaned at it but didn't waste any time and took advantage on him by lightly letting his hand caress America's back all the way down as he suddenly pushed one of his fingers in him. America jerked on him at the touch and when he could get a glimpse at those amber eyes staring from underneath he could tell immediately that Italy had all the intention to lead the game that night. He grinned sweaty and dazed, still pretty high, just to get grinned in return. Just how more arousing could it get? And as Italy let a second and then another finger in him, and let his movements and touches become more and more rough and passionate, America welcomed it, responded to it just as roughly, loving this radical change his companion would show only at night time.

There was so much about Italy that many could not even begin to guess. In his way to act, to think...to love. The more he deepened in this person, both physically and mentally, the less he understood how such a complex and knowing being, that had experienced almost all humanity's doing in a central position on the stage, could act so nonchalantly and innocently as the world could appear new every day, every emotion felt for the first time. And he loved it, all of it of this person. He was starting to fall hard for him, he knew it. They had started dating basically to forget their mutual love delusion and yet they were already like this, under each other's skin.

"I...Italy..." he moaned as Italy pushed his member in him and started moving, moaning as well, and passed his hand behind America's neck before kissing him "I love you, America". "I love you too", he said full heartedly embracing him as Italy's pace got faster and faster making him mind numb, grinding his teeth for the hard strokes he was receiving. It was delirious, like this, amazing. The feeling of being filled and protected by someone who knew so much more than him, a senior he was learning to admire more and more, and at the same time who looked so candid and frail, that felt so soft, that acted like a scared child who needed all his care and protection.

He had no idea how long this all could go on, if their excessive cheerfulness and worriless attitude would end up bothering and boring each other, if the outer world would start interfering or simply time or faith would place a time limit to all this but...He gave a look to Italy's naked figure as he was about to climax in him, slight sweaty and shiny muscles showing. It was worth it, this sight alone was; the rule-less and crazy time they had spent together felt more right than anything he had dared to ask for;

all his blessings for this one perfect wild night.

**Punk fashion actually exploded in the '70 but a good base for it was already getting laid down in these years.

*** This was actually a very happy moment of collaboration between the two countries when it came to art in general, but especially the pictures saw this mingling. Liz Taylor actually became an intimate friend with the famous stylist.

**** Even if very little, Italy was one of the very few European countries to actually contribute on the studies and project to send the man on the moon.

***** In this period use of chemical drugs became a real fashion and quite a custom. they were consumed a lot more lightheartedly than today.


End file.
